Healed
by Majestrix Windrider
Summary: A disaster lands a certain white haired woman in the care of a loner. She helps him, but will he be able to help her? AU


Roaring. That's all he heard as his house shook slightly. Looking out the window a plane streaked through the sky, clipping the tops of some trees as metal screeched. Picking up his first aid kit and lugging on his large, heavy coat, he stepped outside. It was still mostly light, the sun on its way to setting. A large pillar of smoke billowed from the wreckage, leading him the thick, waist high drifts of snow.  
After a while the trees thinned out and he could see the side of the plane. The door was ripped off and he could see three people, but before he could make another move the plane exploded, pushing him onto his back as the flames licked the air two feet above him, debris lancing through the small clearing. He flipped over and dug himself into the snow, his coat giving him protection as he waited out the flames.  
He felt a pang of regret as he lifted his head, the flames now only burning in the body of the plane. He stood and sighed. It was too late to do anything about them now. Standing unsteadily, he shielded his eyes and said a quick prayer for the people he could not save. Turning away from the wreckage, he gasped.  
A woman with white hair was stumbling around, obviously disoriented and hurt. "Hey! Wait!" He yelled. The woman turned far too quickly in her state and moaned, falling into the snow. Logan ran over to her and picked her up gently. It was starting to snow, and he moved quickly back to his house.  
*  
An entire day she did not move, lying on his bed unconscious. He pulled two pieces of shrapnel from her arm, cleaning and bandaging the wounds. When he was done he came to the immediate conclusion she was beautiful. Such a striking combination, cocoa skin and white hair, and he was even more surprised to find she had blue eyes. Not a murky, maybe a mistake of nature blue. No, the color was like a clear blue light, clearer than the sky could ever be.   
A serene face with angelic features, he spent half of the day just staring at her, watching her breathe in her cream colored ski suit. His vigilance was rewarded, for shortly after the second nightfall, her eyes opened.  
She was frightened. She didn't recognize anything, glancing around the room. Her head was filled with pain and she felt dizzy, her breath caught in her throat. Where was she? "So, you're up." A male voice said, setting a tray down on the end table. A glass of water and some aspirin. She blinked.  
"Who are you?"  
"Name's Logan. What's yours?" He sat down by her feet as she looked at him.  
"My name is…my name is…" She trailed off, confused. Brought her hand to her head and thought harder. "I can't remember!"  
"It's okay. It will come back to you soon." Logan nodded and she looked relieved. "Do you want something to eat?" She shook her head.  
"No, my stomach is queasy. But I do have a really bad headache." It came out small and unprotected, stirring something within him.  
"Okay." He got up and gave her the medicine, holding the glass because her hands were shaking too hard. Once they were done Logan sat back down at his place at the foot of the bed, and she curled her long legs so she was sitting Indian style. "You know, we've got to think of a name for you until you remember your own. I mean, you're just too damn beautiful for 'hey you'." He smiled as she laughed slightly.  
"You think I'm beautiful?"  
"I'd be lying if I said I didn't." She smiled. "How about blue?"  
"Blue?"  
"Yeah. Your eyes are blue." She nodded slowly.  
"Blue, I think it's pretty."  
"Just like you." Blue beamed and swung her feet over the side of the bed, standing unsteadily. Logan was by her side, balancing her carefully.  
"Thank you."  
"My pleasure." Logan looked into her eyes and fell in, hard. Her smile lit up her entire face and made her seem even more beautiful. "Logan?"  
"Hmm?"  
"Do you think you have something I could sleep in? I'm very uncomfortable." Blue pushed a lock of hair from her face and he was lost.  
"Um…sure…" He reluctantly let her go and went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of shorts and a tee shirt. "Here you go, they'll probably be a little loose, but that's all I have."  
"Thanks. You've been so kind to me." She took the clothing and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Logan stopped and forced himself to leave the room. Going into the kitchen he poured himself a stiff drink. Every time he thought of her he smiled. Whenever he touched he felt an overwhelming physical response. How was he going to make it?  
He went into the living room and stoked the dying fire, coaxing it into a full blaze by adding a fresh log. Just having finished putting the poker down, he saw Blue descend the stairs, only in the tee shirt. It was white and came only mid thigh, riding higher with every step. "I couldn't wear the shorts. They kept sliding off, but thanks for the shirt." She sat down beside him and looked at the fire while Logan stared at her legs. "Logan?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Like what you see?" He looked up guiltily.   
"Sorry."  
"Why?" He raised an eyebrow.   
"I'm quite flattered actually."  
"Are you now?" He put down his drink and turned to the intriguing woman beside him.  
"Yes I am quite attracted to you. Are you attracted to me?" She asked simply.  
"You're straightforward, aren't you?"  
"Yes. I…think that's one of the reasons why people like me…" Blue said slowly.  
"I see."  
"Well, are you?"  
"Yes."  
"Good. SO do you live alone?"  
"Yep. Just me here."  
"Why?" Logan hesitated, picking up his drink again. He swallowed some vodka and looked back into the fire. "We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to." She offered.  
"I was a country firefighter, someone who put out the forest fires and went to barns and houses too far from Toronto, things like that. I was on call one night and we were sent out to control a fire this pyromaniac supposedly started. St. John, the little punk, couldn't keep his hands away from gasoline and matches. They put him in an insane asylum, but he escaped.  
He proved he was brilliant and sane, and I managed to produce evidence everything was related to revenge, and it was all planned. He was sent to jail and he vowed he'd get me too. I laughed it off that day in the court room. I mean, he was in there, and I was out here. Nothing he could do." He took another drink as Blue took his hand. Logan squeezed and continued, strength flowing into him from her touch.   
"That night it wasn't a large fire, but it was a good 100 miles from the city. About how far out I lived. When we got there, I found out he torched my house…and my family along with it." She gasped.  
"I'm so sorry…"  
"He trapped my wife and kid inside, and let it burn as he heard their screams. They burned to death as he laughed on the lawn." Tears coursed down her cheeks as they did on Logan's and she pulled him into her arms.   
For the first time in ten years he cried for Jean and his son Nathan. After the funeral he just packed up and left, never coming back. Every couple of months an old friend would drop off supplies, but he never saw anyone, and he didn't want to. He holed himself up and away, never quite facing the fact that he had to grieve. He found solace in his silence, for he really thought he caused his family's death.  
A couple of hours later he woke up, not realizing he had fallen asleep. He looked up and saw Blue was awake, her eyes dilated and she was rubbing her temples. "You okay?"  
"Bad headache, nothing more." He shifted out of her arms and picked her up, carrying her to the bed. She took more aspirin and drank more water, and once Blue was done he started to go back downstairs. "Logan, please. Stay." He sighed and blew out the candle. Slipping in beside her he felt sleep reaching for him, and for the first time in years he didn't resist, and let his eyes close. The nightmares were gone, the nightmares that only let him sleep three hours a night at the most, no nightmares, and he fell in a deep sleep.  
*  
Death. He smelled death. Opening his eyes, the full moon illuminated the room as if it were a silver day. Blue was awake as well, but something was wrong. "Are you okay?"  
"I didn't want to wake you up. My head hurts so much…" Logan took her hand and kissed the palm.  
"I can't give you any more aspirin right now, you could get sick." She nodded slowly.  
"Ororo."  
"What?"  
"Ororo…that is my name."  
"It's beautiful." He said, but he knew something was wrong.  
"Thanks. I remember everything now, but I can't see." Her voice was soft and sure, but his heart seized. Her head injury was worse than he thought.  
"We've got to get you to a doctor." He said desperately, but he knew that with his radio and the shifting snow storms, no one would be able to make it.  
"Logan, it hurts so bad." Ororo sighed. As he watched blood leaked out of her ears, and he knew she was going to die.  
"Oh no…Ororo, please hang on." He stroked the side of her face, and the pain lines eased themselves out.  
"I'm not scared anymore. Everyone's time is different. I just happened to only get 25 years. But I had fun. I was sent here to tell you to live." She said firmly.  
"Don't die on me." Logan said slowly, trying to keep the tears from his eyes. "Please."  
"Logan, you'll go on and you'll be happy."  
"Not without you."  
"You will. You'll find love again. You'll rebuild your life. But not here." Ororo sighed and smiled. "Jean's a redhead isn't she?"  
"Yes."  
"She's beautiful. I'm not afraid, and don't mourn me. I'm not in any pain. Hello Mom, Dad. Jubilee, Scott, Kitty, you are all okay…I was worried…" Logan looked down as her hand went slack in his.  
*  
Logan turned off the snow mobile and looked back at the small cottage. A stone grave stood out from the expanse of white. Turning away, he put on his goggles and said as silent goodbye as he moved on, finally healed. 


End file.
